How You Remind Me
by AC Mathur 'teh Chibi Dudette
Summary: 26yr old Harry Potter roams the ruins of Diagon Alley; many regrets in his mind. Songfic to nickelback's How You Remind Me.


Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, Nickelback owns the song _How You Remind Me _and if anyone thinks that **_I_** _don't_ own this story I am going to hurt them. (Meh. A boy in my class thought someone else wrote it because of all the variations of bold, italics etc.)

'Cos I'm a nice kid ☺

**How You Remind Me**

Making his way through the heap of chaotic rubble, once the glamorous Diagon Alley, was a 26yr old Harry James Potter, staring at it through dark murky eyes – once a shimmering emerald hue – an expression of deep regret etched upon his emaciated waxen face. He stared around in bewilderment – comparing the glorious and carefree memories he once spent here with the desolate sight before his eyes.

It was hours into the night, and Harry was strolling under a heavy downpour of rain pummelling his shoulders – mocking him. The few others that were there did not just roam freely in the pounding rain, but there was much difference between Harry and the innocents.

Harry checked his watch.

"1:26am… It's been 86 minutes past Ron's birthday and I never even noticed it." He mused, sparing a glance at a nearby debris he'd once gotten Ron his 18th birthday card from.

It was usual for Harry Potter to spend his nights laughing joyfully; his lips twitching into a free-spirited smile. But that hadn't happened for years. That sort of thing was hard to do with a corpse.

Harry closed his eyes, willing himself to sooth the threatening tears – praying that he wouldn't show any sign of weakness. _He_ was the shoulder to cry on – _he_ was the one that would tell everyone that everything would be better, that it was alright. But… inside, he never really was the sensitive and serene being Hermione had long since been. He was the weak one – the one that couldn't take it, _he_ was the one that should've been pitied.

Even if he _had_ caused all this. Why couldn't he have known? Why didn't he realise long ago that joining the ranks of Lord Voldemort was not the answer? He stared around at the place once more. How could he have been so blind? Didn't he feel anything for the innocents?

**_Never made it as a wise man_**

**_I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing_**

_**Tired of living like a blind man**_

_**I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling**_

A scrap of paper stuck out from a heap of broken glass. Harry, uncaring for any gashes the glass caused him, bent down and retrieved it. There was his photo – standing next to a naïve 11yr old Colin Creevey. He chuckled to himself. This photo was so old – he couldn't help but remember the hero he once appeared to be. In comparison to what he really was now. A disgusting traitor.

**_And this is how you remind me_**

**_This is how you remind me_**

**_Of what I really am_**

_**This is how you remind me**_

**_Of what I really am_**

He smiled vacuously. Colin was a man of outstanding virtue, and he now cursed himself for never noticing it before. It was simply staring at this photo that plunged him into a vast sea of regret. He suddenly started wishing, hoping… wishing he could see them all again. Hoping he could one day apologise for what he had done. Apologise to Ron, to Hermione… and apologise to himself; for ruining his own life.

_**It's not like you to say sorry**_

_**I was waiting on a different story**_

_**This time I'm mistaken**_

**_For handing you a heart worth breaking_**

It was hard to imagine… oh, he'd been a complete and utter imbecile when he was younger. Always imagining he'd be a good little boy, thinking that being good would make everything better. Oh yes, he'd been wrong – many times he'd played the fool, but never would he have dreamed that he'd make a mistake like this – never possibly envisioned himself joining the dark side.

Had he gained anything from this? Almost a decade ago when the Second War started, he day he learnt about Ron and Hermione dying, he'd told himself he wouldn't take anymore deaths – told himself that surely Voldemort wouldn't be like Dumbledore – surely _Voldemort_ wouldn't sigh and mutter _that's war for you, Harry_ if you told him how you felt about someone close dying.

Ha. _Voldemort_ for Merlin's sake. Yup, Harry Potter was a complete idiot.

_**And I've been wrong**_

_**I've been down into the bottom of every bottle**_

**_These five words in my head_**

_**Scream 'are we having fun yet?'**_

Harry chose a spot under a rusty (and, to his curiosity, unbroken) umbrella-table café (he'd never known what to call those outdoor tables with umbrellas on top of them. This, he supposed, was a part of his idiocy.) 'thingy' and sank down onto the floor, curling himself up into a ball.

**_Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no  
Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no_**

Once again he cursed himself for being such an idiot. Hermione had died so… so... so _suddenly_, so… she'd died. She'd died before he ever worked up the nerve to tell her how he felt about her. Harry heaved a sigh. It didn't matter now anyway, right? Even if he _had_ told her – even if there was a possibility she could ever like him in the same way – how could they have been together in the middle of a _war_?

_**It's not like you didn't know that.**_

_**I said 'I love you' and I swear I still do.**_

_**It must've been so bad.**_

'**_Cos living with him must've damn near killed you_**

He chuckled once more – and let out a raucous scream of laughter. No, no, he must stop laughing. But it was hard not to. Once again, he was remembering the good old days. Remembering Hermione whacking him over the head – _very_ painfully, he remembered.

"Yeah, her hand's like an army of bludgers." He muttered to himself; clearly bemused.

_**And this is how you remind me**_

_**Of what I really am**_

**_This is how you remind me_**

**_Of what I really am_**

He smiled contentedly. She'd always been so polite. So ready, so aware of other people's feelings… in their 6th year and beyond she'd always be the one to apologise straight away if they got into an argument – and usually it was his fault.

_**It's not like you to say sorry**_

_**I was waiting on a different story**_

_**This time I'm mistaken**_

_**For handing you a heart worth breaking**_

_**And I've been wrong**_

_**I've been down into the bottom of every bottle**_

_**These five words in my head**_

_**Scream 'are we having fun yet?'**_

He shut his eyes tightly – once more trying to hold in the ocean of tears inside him.

"Screw this." He whispered.

And, for the first time in 8 years, Harry James Potter let go of his shield and broke down.

**_Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no  
Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no_**

**_Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no  
Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no_**

**_Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no  
Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no…_**

His emerald eyes were now glistening with tears, blurring his vision. He wished Mrs. Weasley was here. Or maybe Ron – definitely Hermione. Anyone, to stay by his side. Someone to tell him it was okay, tell him it would be alright… wasn't anyone there for him? He was sick of being the shoulder to cry on, he needed someone to be there for him…

_**Never made it as a wise man**_

**_I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealin'_**

**_An' this is how you remind me_**

_**This is how you remind me**_

_**This is how you remind me of what I really am**_

_**This is how you remind me of what I really am**_

_**It's not like you to say sorry**_

_**I was waiting on a different story**_

_**This time I'm mistaken**_

_**For handing you a heart worth breaking**_

_**And I've been wrong**_

_**I've been down into the bottom of every bottle**_

_**These five words in my head**_

_**Scream 'are we having fun yet?'**_

**_Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no  
Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no_**

_**(Are we hav' fun yet?)**_

**_Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no  
Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no (Are we hav' fun yet?)_**

**_(Five words in my head) Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no  
Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no_**

He picked up the old photo of him standing with Colin again.

"This is how you remind me…"


End file.
